


Loki Seriously Needs Some Hugs

by soybea_n



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Everyone Needs Hugs, Gen, Loki Is Not Evil, Loki needs hugs, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Also Needs Hugs, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Suicidal Thoughts, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, lots of sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-04 06:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14587539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soybea_n/pseuds/soybea_n
Summary: This is a post-Infinity War fic about Loki fitting in with the other Avengers. Infinity War spoilers here, obviously.





	1. alone

Earth was boring. That was a fact.

And  _honestly,_ the mortals had such inefficient ways of doing things.

Of course, he didn't attribute it to them. They just lacked magic or any of the most basic skills to get things done. In the Avengers Compound, it was a little better, but he knew (mostly from that child's incessant  _talking)_ that in other places like busy New York didn't have space to plant trees. If they wanted to improve the quality of the air, why didn't they just find ways to engineer seeds to increase the process of oxygen production? They had done it on Asgard.

Perhaps the humans had found ways. It hadn't escaped Loki's attention, of course, how the Avengers jumped every time they saw the God of Mischief, how they instinctively reached for anything around them when he moved, stuttered when they spoke to him, shrunk away from the man whenhespoke.  _Of course, you deserve that,_ he mused, walking over to his bookshelf.  _What with the attack on New York and everything._

Indeed Thor had tried and tried to convince his friends that his brother was transformed, that he was good, blah, blah, blah. Loki had stopped listening at the same time everyone else had. He kind of pitied his older brother, trying so hard to accomplish something he never could accomplish. Hell, Loki wasn't even allowed to leave the compound.

And the bracelets.

Those goddamn bracelets.

There were two jet-black  ~~shackles~~ bracelets on his wrists that blocked his magic. It was  _so inconvenient._ Every time he wanted to do a task, he actually had to get up and accomplish it. The magic drain had an exhausting effect, too. He found himself spending more and more time in bed, and even the smallest tasks made him exhausted. He wanted to go down to the kitchen? He actually had to walk the entire way and, after an onslaught of questions  _(Where are you going? What do you want? Are your bracelets still on?)_ he was allowed to go inside, prepare food, and eat it.

And that Steven Rogers! He was so ridiculously cautious! What did he think? Loki was going to take the butterknife and stab him? He had no intentions.

Sighing, he put down the book. His stomach had been rumbling for a while now, and as much as he'd tried to ignore it to avoid leaving the room, he actually now had to get up and eat. Walking out of his room, he made it forty steps down the hallway (a new record!) when Tony Stark himself stopped him.

"Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm hungry, Stark, and I need to eat." Loki replied icily, pointedly looking down at the shorter man. "I may not be a human, but I still require sustenance in the form of food. To survive. Although that may not be a great concern of yours, seeing how many people you've murdered and all."

(But the god wouldn't mention how much Tony's gaze made him uncomfortable, or how these hateful comments only came from his own insecurities.)

Stark was definitely pissed, but didn't show it.

"Get the hell out of my way." Tony growled, stepping past him to get into another room in this maze of a compound.

Sighing, Loki headed down into the kitchen, the one route he had memorized. Thor was already there, thank  _goodness_ it wasn't anyone else.

"Loki, are you alright?" Thor asked. Of course he would ask that. After ages and ages of being together, only Thor could notice when he wasn't at his best. Everyone else who could was dead.

"I am _fine,_ brother." The darker-haired man reached for the plate, adding a few apples and grapes to it and looking through the cabinets for... what was it called? 'Macaroni and cheese?' He hated to admit it, but he actually liked the stuff. Finding what he needed, he placed the box on the table and prepared a pot of boiling water to put the pasta in.

"Loki, I am still trying to convince them that you are no threat."

"Brother, how many times have we had this conversation? They aren't convinced. However nice I was, they wouldn't believe me. They won't even let me take off these stupid energy-draining shackles. It's been two months. Two months, alright? They aren't ever going to trust me!"

"I can--"

"No, you can't. Go back to your punching and leave me be."

 _No, keep on talking._ Loki wanted to say.  _I want you to keep talking. I want someone to talk to me._

How long had it been since anyone had spoken to him with the intention of holding a conversation? Other than Thor and that Spider-child, no one ever spoke to him with any interest. Only about things they wanted. How Loki's talents could benefit them. Always about them. He was missing his younger days as the sly prince of Asgard, not doubting the fact that he was loved.

"Alright." Thor said.

_I'm still alone._


	2. not scared

Tony Stark was not afraid of Loki.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

Thor had told him several times how his brother had sacrificed himself for the world. He insisted that his brother was a good person. But Tony was not convinced.

Tony warned everyone to be cautious, that Loki always had tricks up his sleeve, don't trust him. But there were a few people who wouldn't listen.

Peter. He tried to talk to Loki whenever he could, and it was giving Tony a miniature heart attack when Loki turned those green eyes on Tony's kid. Peter wasn't going to die again. Tony would not allow it. And Loki sure as hell would not talk to him without someone else nearby. He was the god of  _mischief,_ for god's sake. He could not be trusted. With a shudder, Tony remembered his own first conversation with the man after his magic had been suppressed.

_"Loki."_

_"Stark." he replied coldly, not taking his eyes off his book. He had abandoned his usual_ _regal outfit for a simple black t-shirt and jeans that somehow managed to fit him._

_After a long, awkward pause, Tony continued. "Enjoying the place?"_

_"I don't see how that should be any great concern of yours."_

Honestly, the guy was an asshole. At first, he'd at least tried to come out of his room and speak to the other Avengers, but after three or four days, he stopped.

And Bucky. He was always sympathizing with Loki. Always coming up to him and starting up a chat. Somehow it always lasted longer than a few minutes. Tony had listened in on their first one. 

_"Hey, how you doing?" Bucky asked._

_"I am_ fine,  _Mr. Barnes."_

_"Bucky."_

_Another pause until Bucky continued. "It sucks, doesn't it? When everyone else doesn't trust you, even though you know you're trustworthy."_

_"I suppose." More waiting. "It is a bit irritating, isn't it? I know I'm not going to stab them in the back. They know it, too. Although I do deserve the mistrust." At that, Loki smirked._

_”No one deserves that,” Bucky reasoned. “It wasn’t your fault—“_

_”It was. End of discussion. Speaking of which...” a bone-chilling shudder swept through Tony at the words. “What happened, then? After I died? I came back, and all of a sudden, everyone’s having tearful reunions and Thor nearly suffocated me in his hug. What occurred?”_

_Bucky appeared insanely uncomfortable at that. “Can’t tell you that.”_

_Loki looked mildly disappointed. “And you were just going on about how everyone deserves a second chance. You’re a hypocrite like them.”_

_And he strolled off._

It had been a few weeks since Loki had arrived, and there was definitely something wrong. He was coming out of his room less and less frequently, some days not even coming out at all. There was a sort of emptiness in his eyes. Probably some side effect of the magic suppression. Whatever it was, Loki had to stay in the bracelets until he was deemed safe.

”When will he be deemed ‘safe,’ though?” Thor had asked.

”I don’t know.” came the reply.


	3. in which social interaction is forced

If he was being honest, Bucky was feeling a bit guilty. Tony had reassured him after not to worry, that Loki was the silver-tongued god of mischief and that he couldn’t let him get into his head, but Bucky still couldn’t help feeling bad.

They had both gone through the same thing, where they were forced to do something terrible without knowing. The least he could do was tell him what happened with Thanos, right?

Tony’s words still rang in his head. _If you give him that information, he’ll have something else to use against us._

But... he still felt bad.

God, he also felt like punching himself. 

But something was off; no one saw Loki out of his room before five in the evening, and even then, only for a few moments while the god wolfed down some food. No one got a good look at his face, much less talk to him. Loki was getting what he wanted: privacy and peace, without those annoying Avengers on his tail. Frankly, no one wanted to talk to him either, what with his temper. And besides, there were bigger problems on their hands.

Thor had lost contact with the remaining Asgardians and was constantly off on missions to find his people. He had spoken with the Guardians of the Galaxy, even gone into space with them, but to no avail. Heimdall was gone, and if all of the Asgardians were as inept with technology as their leader was, there was no hope of rescuing them. At first he wanted to bring Loki along with him, but then decided not to. Something about not wanting to worry about another person.

"Yes, but maybe... maybe there's someone who can help find the Asgardians. We need Thor around here since he's the only one who can keep track of his brother." Steve offered at one of the meetings.

"I know what you're thinking, but no. I'm not letting Loki out of this place until I am one hundred goddamn percent sure he's not going on a murdering spree." Tony interrupted. "End of discussion."

"I dunno, Tony..." suggested Bruce. "He seemed pretty different since I saw him. Not much evilness left."

"Well, that's 'cause he's the god of  _lies._ He's manipulating us to get his way. The minute we take off those wristbands, who knows what he'll do." Tony replied firmly.

"Speaking of which, has anyone seen Loki? He's been in his room for _ever._ He comes out, what, once a day? Is he alright?" Peter popped in the room. Damn super hearing. Were there no  _doors_ in this room?

"As long as he's alive, I have no problems. It's up to him to take care of himself, seeing how much freedom we've given him."

"Maybe... take him out once. He's probably dying for some fresh air. Have someone on him at all times. I don't know, maybe to the grocery store?" Natasha said.

"After a while." Tony relented.

* * *

 

Well, it had been a month and, after a lot of coaxing, Tony had finally agreed to let Loki out of the compound. But the terms were that two people had to be closeby at all times, and the people he'd chosen were Bucky and Peter. Because, as Tony put it, they were the ones most likely to not be noticed, and the ones who would best be able to restrain Loki if need be.

And now the two stood outside Loki's room, with the herculean task of getting him outside. Tentatively Peter knocked on the door.

"Come in." a tired voice came from inside.

Loki was still on his bed, surrounded by books from the library. He was reading one of them (it looked like Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but Bucky wasn't sure, especially with the dim lights).

"Loki? We-we've been told to take you outside." Peter said.

"Mmmph," Loki grunted in response, face still buried in the pages. "Later."

"No, we have to go now," Bucky interrupted. Peter, who was trying to continue, stopped. "Get ready and be out here in thirty minutes."

Loki got up, blearily rubbing his eyes. Had he been _sleeping?_ At this time of day? He stalked for the bathroom when he turned around. "Is this some kind of trap?"

Bucky and Peter couldn't answer.  _God,_ he looked awful. There were dark purple circles under Loki's eyes and his skin was an unhealthy, sickly pale. His eyes, usually bright and attentive, were dull and clouded. His fingertips had turned blue, and-- was he  _shaking?_

"Are you- okay?" Peter managed. "You look--"

"Like death? I know. I've been catching up on my--" he averted his gaze for a half second-- "reading."

After a few more moments of staring, he huffed again. "Get out," he snapped.


	4. off to the store

That was the shittiest lie Loki had ever told, without a single doubt. His  _reading?_ What the hell kind of excuse was that? Even Thor would have been able to come up with something better.

_Well, Thor wouldn't have been weak enough to get sick in the first place._

Loki hadn’t actually been reading. It had been quite a while since he had done that. He’d just woken up after what felt like an eternity of sleep, hastily picked up a book, and pretended to read as the two walked in.

As the lights turned on, Loki wondered how long it had been since he fell asleep. Checking his calendar, he made a strangled sound. He went to sleep yesterday at ten o'clock in the morning. Almost a  _day?_ That... wasn't possible. Back on Asgard, he had trouble sleeping more than six hours, and now he had slept through an entire day? Something was seriously off. Collecting himself, he stepped into the bathroom, only to be gripped by a wave of nausea at his reflection.

The man in the mirror was sunken and tired and hungry, sickly and ill. Trying not to look at himself, he brushed his teeth and showered, stumbling out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a forest green t-shirt. He tied his hair back in a ponytail and headed out of the room, nearly falling down from the bright light and cold air of outside. He was a  _Jotun,_ for god's sake. He shouldn't be cold.

Bucky and Peter were waiting outside, Peter staring at his... what was it called? 'Phone?'

"You look... better," one of them said, but Loki couldn't really figure out who.

No. He was going to tough this out. Probably just one of the illnesses he got on Asgard that faded in a week or so. No one needed to see him weak. He was  _not_ weak.

Forcing himself to focus, he caught onto the end of Bucky's sentence. "...to go?"

"Yes, let's go." he snapped back. "Get this over with."

_God,_ his wrists hurt so much. And his head and stomach, probably from not eating anything. He really needed to eat healthier. Maybe that had to do with him not leaving his room for days on end.

"We're going to the grocery store," Peter said slowly, as if he were repeating himself. "Buying some milk and eggs and coming back. Are you there?"

"Yes." With no more words, the three walked down the hall.

As the three left the building, Peter nodded at someone--probably Stark-- and they were off, walking two blocks downtown to the store.

The colors of the outside were so much brighter and livelier than they were from his window. If Loki hadn't been sick, he would have enjoyed the wind in his face. But everything was an eyesore and a headache right now.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It's nine-thirty in the morning." Bucky replied. "No one's going to be there, especially 'cause it's Sunday. Now get in there and we'll buy those groceries and get out."

With that, they walked into the store.

Loki was astonished at the variety of food that was there. Fruits of every kind, vegetables, sweets... Suddenly he felt very hungry. But he ignored it. Focus, look strong. Strong. They pushed a shopping cart down to the aisle with the milk and put four cartons in. Loki zoned out, listening to the background music and absentmindedly watching Peter and Bucky debate over what fruits to get (Bucky wanted plums, while Peter argued that they already had enough).

The entire experience passed by in a blur, until, on their way to the eggs (which was what they actually _needed in the first place)_ , a salesperson came up to Loki and started talking.

"Hello! What's your name?" the boy asked.

"...Lucas."

Loki made it up on the spot. No one needed to know his real name, or else a riot or something would start in the shop and he would be to blame, and then the Avengers would kill him for sure. He wasn't actually sure why he cared, but his attention snapped back to the world before he could keep on thinking.

The boy who was trying to start a conversation was few inches shorter than him, in his early twenties, with messy black curls and a wrinkled store outfit. His name tag read  _Hunter._

"Oh! Finding everything well?"

"Yes, thank you." he replied, trying to be polite for no reason whatsoever.

"Well, if you need anything, feel free to ask!" he said cheerfully, walking over to an aisle nearby.

Loki hastily turned around, pretending to inspect some cans nearby. The names and letters blurred together.

"Alright, time to go!" Peter interrupted cheerfully, strolling over to the shopping cart while Loki and Bucky followed. They were given three plastic bags of items to take  ~~home~~ to the compound. It was time to go. Inwardly, Loki hated himself for not being able to enjoy what he was seeing, but he still had to keep up his facade of haughty self-confidence.

* * *

 

Loki's wrist that was holding the bag hurt like  _hell_ as he walked back, but he was determined not to show it. One step after the other. One step after the other.

_I am going back, eating a meal, and going back to my room, and reading a book. Shit, I can't even hold a bag, how will I eat--_

"Oh, I have a text from Mr. Stark," Peter said, picking up his phone from his pocket. "Loki, could you hold this?" he asked absentmindedly, handing him the bag.

Loki picked up the bag, only to drop the groceries immediately from the impossible pain in his wrist with a strangled gasp.  _"Shit,"_ he hissed, picking checking inside for anything spilled. Nothing broken, thank  _god._ Except Bucky and Peter were staring now. 

_Don't mention this to anyone,_ he wanted to say.  _I'm not weak, I swear,_ he wanted to say.  _Don't tell Stark,_ he wanted to say.

But Loki didn't say anything. Excuses were for the weak, and Loki was not weak. He was their equal, he was  _Thor's_ equal, and he would be just as strong.

He earned nothing but a few strange looks from his  ~~companions~~ acquaintances.


	5. you ok tho

Peter was a bit confused, to say the very least. From the limited experience he had with Loki, Peter could tell this was not how he usually behaved. The god was always calculating and poised, not this half-asleep, clumsy mess. He and Bucky both knew something was wrong the second he opened his door, and it was confirmed when Loki dropped that bag like it was made of fire. _I'll ask Mr. Stark. He probably knows something._

Peter walked into the Avengers compound, following Bucky and Loki. As expected, Loki made a beeline for his room, while Peter and Bucky put their items back in the fridge. 

"Do we tell Mr. Stark or Thor?" Peter asked nervously.

"Tony's the closest nearby right now. Thor should be back in around three days, judging from the message the Guardians sent us."

At that moment, Tony strolled into the kitchen from the living room. "So? What's the death count?" Mr. Stark asked, only half-sarcastic.

"You'd be surprised to hear," came a sharp voice from the other door, "that there is no one dead."

Loki was right there, leaning in the doorway. He was still just as gaunt-looking, but there was some dignity in his stance as he faced off with Tony.

"Peter? Bucky?" Mr. Stark asked, ignoring him. "I'd like to hear it from you."

"Nothing happened, sir." Peter said quickly. "We got the stuff and came back, and Loki literally didn't do anything. At all."

Loki looked a little pissed for a moment before nodding slowly. "Why don't you check the footage you recorded, or the listening device you planted. And after you've done that, will you deem me _trustworthy?"_

_(Wait, he planted a listening device?)_

"Nope. And I am checking both of them. Bucky, spot anything unusual?"

The older person shook his head. " Not really. You might want to get him in your lab for some tests or something, though. He seems really sick. The--" Bucky was broken off by Loki clearing his throat loudly.

" _I_ am fine, and  _I_ will be the judge of my illness. Keep in mind that I am an Asgardian, and face different situations and sicknesses than you humans. So in your words," he angrily turned around- " _back the fuck off."_

Loki stormed back up the hallway to his place.

"Could we call Mr. Banner for this?" Peter asked. "He has like, ten Ph.Ds. One of them has to be a physician's, right?"

"I hate to admit it, but Loki has a point. We don't know much about Asgardian illnesses. it's probably best to wait for Thor to get here. Until then, though..." Tony trailed off. "I'll have someone check on him every time he leaves his room."

* * *

It had been two days, then, and Loki  _still_ hadn't left his room. Honestly, it was kind of worrying. Tony had checked the security footage, and Loki wasn't even out at night.

"Mr. Stark, if he doesn't come out of there in an hour, I'm walking in and checking on him," Peter decided. Tony didn't even argue.

And so, after a long hour of sitting outside the door, Loki was  _still_ inside. Peter was going to have to go in. He knocked on the door.

Nothing.

He tried to open it, and found that it wasn't even locked. Loki must have been really careless to leave the door like that. Peter stepped inside.

Books and clothes were strewn all over the floor, and the lights were off. There was a mountain of sheets on the bed, but nothing else in sight. There were one or two novels over there, too. After a walking closer to the window (covered with a bedsheet), he spotted Loki splayed out, facedown on his bed, wearing sweatpants and a sweater. He was somewhat covered by the sheets, but judging by how the blankets were thrown to one side, there was probably a lot of tossing and turning. Was he  _cold?_ He was a Jotun, or something. He wasn't supposed to get  _cold._

Creeping closer, Peter could see that, even asleep in the dim light, Loki's eyes were sunken in and his cheekbones jutted out more than usual. His hair was tangled and matted. Even his shirt hung off his ribs. But the hands were the worst part.

His hands were bright blue, the color crawling up his forearms and around the wristband. It was even  _worse_ there, with inflamed patches of red and purple around his wrists. If he wasn't sick, Peter would have appreciated the color, how it was interlaced with silver and shifted hues in the dim light. Uncertainly, he reached out to touch them, wanting to see his palms.

The second Peter's hand brushed the skin, Loki snapped awake with a yelp and, fast as a snake, jumped off the bed. "What the hell do you want?" he gasped. He didn't even touch his forearms, instead holding them out to his sides as if it hurt to touch anything.

God, he was  _so much worse standing up._ Loki was visibly shaking, and Peter could see clearly how bloodshot his eyes were.

"You're coming outside, and eating some food--" Loki's eyes widened at that-- "and then you're heading down to the lab for some tests. So get your ass out here, right now."

(Actually, Peter was proud of how firm he was. Not even a stutter.)

Loki looked torn between ignoring him and following him, but after a few moments, he decided to unsteadily walk down to the doorway.

"I can help you if--" Peter began when Loki stumbled.

"I do not need help," Loki hissed. "Don't touch me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASSJHDGHDHJGDHSJHF THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE POSITIVITY!! I want to reply to all of your comments but I can't because I have no words to describe how happy I am!! Thanks so much!


	6. big bro returns

Steve wasn't really one to curse. But he had to be honest when he saw that Loki looked like shit.

Gaunt and frail, he staggered into the living room, followed closely by Peter. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark purple bags under them, made very noticeable by the sickly pale skin. Loki's hair was a mess, and he wore a sweater and sweatpants, as if he was cold. His hands-- oh god, his  _hands._ They were bright blue with patchy purple bruises here and there. Looking at him, no one would guess that he was the regal, poised god he had been a month ago. He kept his hands halfway behind his back but not touching, as if it pained him to even do that.

Peter shoved him into the living room, where Tony, Steve, Bucky, Bruce, and Natasha were on the couches eating sandwiches they bought from a nearby place. Loki didn't meet eye contact, just stared at the floor, looking ashamed. Everyone was speechless for a while before Bucky finally spoke up. "You look like you should... eat something."

"I'm not hungry." Loki said, voice hoarse. After an unbelieving pause, he continued. "I'm just a little sick. I'll sleep it off in a while--"

"You're going to eat something now, and then you'll be allowed to head back." Tony interrupted coldly, pointing at the kitchen.

With a few mumbled curses that Steve couldn't even  _think_ to repeat, Loki walked into the kitchen, shooting death glares at everyone.

"I'm calling Strange," Tony said, picking up his phone.

* * *

Loki hated everything. He hated these  _stupid wristbands,_ he hated those  _stupid Avengers,_ he hated his hands. He couldn't even hold anything, how was he going to eat? Spotting the plate of food on the kitchen island, he tentatively reached for a grape.

The second he touched it, he drew back with a string of ancient profanity. His mother would have disowned him if he had said that in front of her. If she was alive.

Focus. He was  _not_ weak. Thor would be able to do this. He could eat a  _fucking grape._ Reaching out for it again, he swallowed the scream he wanted to make, eating the tiny fruit. It was so sweet, so worth it, and he picked up another one, repeating the same process.

Again and again and again.

He had eaten twenty-three by the time he stopped, and his hands were on fire. It  _hurt so much._

He was weak, just like he constantly told himself. A humiliating, weak coward. Thor could do a hundred times better than him.

He didn't need food. He was determined not to be hungry. So he walked back out, trying his best to keep his hands out of sight.

Loki did not need help.

And his heart did  _not_ nearly jump out of his chest when the sound of thunder was heard outside on a sunny day. 


	7. in which there's an unwanted guest

Thor was tired. He wanted to go back to a bed and sleep for a while, and he wanted his people to get into contact, and he just wanted some peace and quiet. And maybe some food. Quill had insisted that the Avengers would be able to get Thor better supplies and technology, so Thor agreed to be dropped in the Avengers tower a day early. Walking in from the balcony, he took the few flights of stairs down to where he expected the rest of the Avengers to be talking.

Only to find them quiet as mice, staring at him, waiting for something to happen. 

And then he turned around.

Thor couldn't stop the rage that blotted out his vision. Loki was half-starved and sick, staring down at the ground, looking like he would rather be born a turnip. Although both brothers were the same height, Loki suddenly seemed very small.

"Brother," Thor asked sharply, accentuating every single syllable, "What is going on?"

No one seemed to want to answer. Natasha finally spoke up after what seemed to be a million years. "He's sick."

"I had noticed."

"We're calling in Dr. Strange," Tony added, meeting the god of thunder's ferocious glare. Thor could not believe this. His brother was ill, and no one was willing to tell him what the hell was happening?

"Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I should be fine. You really don't need to call  _him."_ Loki muttered. "I'll sleep it off if you let me  _leave."_

"Well, too bad, since he's going to be here any minute now. So either save your words for when he gets here, or start talking now to save yourself the awkwardness." Tony said.

"I'll take the former option."

Thor was not going to let himself snap. He was not going to take his anger out. Yet. He'd find who was to blame first. Because he sure as  _hell_ was not going to lose his brother one more time.

After a few minutes of waiting tensely, a circle of orange sparks opened up and out stepped the magician.

He looked around a bit, then stiffened as he spotted Loki. His cloak rose to his sides.

"I was told I'd be looking at someone with a magical ailment, not...  _him."_ Strange said icily. 

 _I am not going to punch someone I am not going to punch someone I am_ not _going to punch someone--_

"Just look at the guy and tell us what's wrong, then you can get the hell out of here." Tony replied. With a sigh, Strange walked up to Loki, demanding he hold out his arms.

"Thor, it's just like that time I got sick in Asgard, when I was six and you were ten. Don't you remember that?" Loki asked nervously, backing away from the other sorcerer.

It did not ring any bells. Actually, Loki had only gotten sick three times in his life that Thor remembered, and two of them were as a baby. The other one was after they had gone on a mission to some fiery dimension that was long dead by now. Loki looked desperate, though.

"That never--" Thor began.

"Exactly, now show me your hands and we'll get this over with."

Cursing profusely, Loki held out his arms, and Thor couldn't even think to describe them. Blue, sickly, with bruises around the black bands-- they were horrible.

"It's the suppressors." Strange decided after not even thirty seconds of looking. He turned around. "Doesn't take any geniuses to figure that out. Take them off and he'll be better within the week, and if you don't take them off, you're looking at another death on your hands. He's a Jotun, Tony, he's practically made of magic. How did you people not think of that?" a short pause. "Actually, don't tell me. It's not my business."

For a few moments, everyone was speechless.

"Is there any way to keep him under watch?" asked Bruce.

 _I am not going to punch someone I am not going to punch someone I am_ not _going to punch someone--_

Thor cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem. If it is bothering you so much, keep him in a cell or send him off with me. The Guardians won't like that, but I'll sort it out. It's clear that he isn't welcome here."

"Listen, Thor. I get that he's your beloved brother and all that, but you know what he's done. You can't keep him out of supervision. It's not safe--" Steve reasoned.

"It. Is. Safe." the god of thunder said coldly, staring him down.

"And if Loki goes around starting mayhem and killing people?" Natasha asked.

I will make it my personal mission to kill him myself."

(Thor knew that was a complete lie, but he just wanted to get this over with.)


	8. are you sad

Loki had never felt more humiliated in his life. Here he was, sitting in a room, while other people decided his fate because his sorry ass wasn't strong enough to speak for himself. Thor wouldn't be weak enough to do this.

What had Strange said? Something along the lines of "keeping the bracelets on would kill him?"

 _God, I'm so tired._ Loki used the wall to slowly lower himself down into a sitting position, the sounds of speaking and arguing and shouting turning into background noise. Leaning his head against the wall and dropping his useless hands to the side, he closed his eyes, trying to form coherent thoughts through the ringing in his ears. 

_They're going to kill me._

The Avengers' voices only got louder and louder, making his head pound. "Please be quiet," he thought he might have said, but... did he really? God. He had used all his strength to face off with Stark, and now all he could do was wait until anything happened.

_I'm going to die._

Everyone was quieting down, their loud, abrasive, violent statements fading out, leaving only silence. But the silence was in no way peaceful; it was dark and cold and unforgiving. It was not the quiet darkness behind his eyelids. Some fifty miles away, he heard Stark speaking, softer. Something about taking his suppressors off, but Loki couldn't really tell.

_If I'm gone, will anyone miss me?_

Thor was putting up a fight now, arguing vehemently about his brother. It was fake, all fake, the protective, worried words blurring together into incomprehensible noises.

_Will anyone remember me?_

And now Peter's and Bucky's voices could be heard, the cacophony of peoples' voices rising again. Was Loki's head splitting open? Trying to focus on what they were saying, he heard something about how he deserved forgiveness.

_Will my loss really be a great one?_

"He was doing what he did because of Thanos! He had the Mind Stone on him, that thing probably messed with his head, too. You can't just condemn him because of someone else's actions!" Peter argued.

_I deserve to die._

"Peter, I don't think you understand how many people he killed at New York during the attack. You were hardly ten, how could you remember--" Tony or Steve said- Loki couldn't tell. The world was coming into focus and out of focus in waves, it was impossible to do  _anything--_

"You're being unfair," Bucky interjected sharply. "I've also killed people, and so have you, and so has Steve, Thor, Banner, Natasha, and everyone in here. The only difference here is that Loki tried to kill  _you."_

The room went utterly silent at that. Loki's eyes were shut, but he could practically hear the uncomfortable glances and shuffling feet. God, he was so  _weak._

_I deserve to die._

He was floating away again-- somewhere far away, Thor was yelling his name and someone was shaking him, and then he was off the ground, limp like a rag doll in someone's arms, and he couldn't tell  _who,_ and he was far beyond feeling ashamed or humiliated at this point. There was nothing left for him, just darkness and misery, which was  _exactly what he deserved._ He never did anything good, just betrayed and backstabbed and tricked. He was going to Helheim. There was nothing but one thought before the dark swallowed him whole.

_I want to die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of sadness in this one, huh


	9. will the sun shine on us again

Loki lay in Thor’s arms, limp and weightless and frigid. His brother was paler than usual, Loki's skin taking on a faint blue tint. Thor didn't know where he was running, but Peter quickly took the lead and steered him towards a sterile, white room with around twenty stretchers in it, each one next to a table. Fighting the urge to rip off the suppressors with his bare hands, Thor put him on the stretcher gently, trying not to shake.

_The sun will shine on us again._

Stark entered the room next, walking briskly--he was  _walking?_ Who the hell did he think he was,  _walking?_ A man was dying, and he wasn't even rushing!

Closing his eyes, Thor tried hard not to picture the blue-skinned dead body he'd held in his arms the day Loki died. He could still feel the chill in his hands. It gave him nightmares.

 _The sun will shine on us again._ Loki had promised.

Out of the corner of his eye, the god of thunder saw Tony scanning his fingerprint on one of the suppressors, then doing a facial recognition. The band loosened, and Tony plucked it off, placing it on the table nearby.

God, the  _skin_ underneath was horrible; it was pulsing red and purple, with charcoal-black veins visible, a stark contrast to the blue-silver skin around it. The other wrist showed the same results. The Avengers, Earth's Mightiest Heroes, did that to Loki.

That was... there weren't even any words.

"Strange said he's made of magic. And that magic gets weaker as the will to use it gets weaker." Steve said quietly. When did he walk in? "If his condition worsened in the amount of time it did... that's probably not good for his mental health."

Everything needed to stop. Loki needed to stop being sick, the Asgardians needed to stop being gone, Thor needed to stop being a horrible brother. He should have noticed something was wrong.

When Thor turned back, Tony had taken off the other band, and Loki seemed to already be losing the bluish skin. Maybe that was just Thor's imagination. Maybe he was just hoping too much.

_Please come back._

_You promised the sun would shine on us again._


	10. or will you leave me alone in the dark

Peter felt awful for Thor, he really did. He watched from afar as the god waited in the same room for three days straight, hardly sleeping. Peter even paid some visits at night, making sure to be quiet. Mr. Stark was insistent on keeping Peter as far away from Loki as possible.

He walked down the dimly lit hallway on the third night, a steaming hot cup of coffee in one hand and a bowl of leftover pasta in the other. Thor didn’t know who was leaving him food in the morning, and neither did anyone else. The man needed something to eat and all of the other Avengers were preoccupied with other issues, so Peter took the chore upon himself. The coffee was beginning to cool a little, so Peter picked up the pace. 3:36 AM, his watch said.

He turned the corner.

Poked his head into the room.

Looked around for a moment.

Thor was passed out on the chair, as he usually was at this hour, but Loki wasn’t in the stretcher.  _Oh, shit._

Before Peter could shout, a hand shot out of the dark— to the right side of the doorway— and covered his mouth. The bowl and cup dropped from his hands in shock, but there was no clatter of dishes hitting the floor. This had to be Loki, it had to be, the Avengers were right, Peter shouldn't have been here--

”If I move my hand,” Loki’s voice came, careful and controlled, “will you call for help?”

Peter shook his head frantically, trying to figure out a way to fight in case he was forced to. Loki had to have gained some strength back, and now that the suppressors were off, he was able to use his magic and  _shit that was not good._ Even as he tried to struggle, Peter's feet seemed to be rooted in place, unable to move.  _Shit, shit, shit._

“I don’t believe you,” Loki said. "but I'm going to trust you."

He lifted his hand and stepped into view, tense and wary. When Peter didn't start screaming his head off, his form immediately relaxed.

It took Peter a full minute for his heart rate to slow down a minuscule amount and his breathing to slow.

"Good. You're probably wonderi--"

"What the hell? How long have you been awake?" Peter burst out, eyes darting around the dark room. He couldn't tell what Loki was wearing or how he looked, only the obvious silhouette and the _weirdly glowing_  emerald green irises, which cast a very faint light that barely illuminated his nose and cheekbones. Were they glowing before? Was that a side effect of the magic thing?

"I've been up a few hours. I wasn't  _dead,_ you didn't have to rush me down here like I was going to the hospital. Speaking of which, what is Thor doing here? Isn't he supposed to be off finding Asgardians and such? Is he eating right? Has he not been sleeping? When did he get here?"

"This is the third night Thor's been here because you decided to have a high-and-mighty attitude and pretend you were perfectly fine, when, in fact, you were actually dying. He's hardly eating, hardly sleeping, and neglecting his people because of you. The Avengers are trying to figure something out now because they got a signal from Valkyrie on the Asgardians' location but Thor won't leave and those people will probably attack anyone who isn't you or your brother."

Loki's voice was smaller than usual. "I didn't think--"

"It doesn't _matter_ what you thought. Whatever it is, you need to get your ass up to Mr. Stark and find a way to help."

"I can't do that. The moment Tony sees me, he'll put me straight back in that cell and leave me to rot, and this time I won't get out. I won't be any use to anyone there."

"Alright. Then--"

A little shuffle beside his feet made Peter look down near his feet, where the pasta bowl and coffee cup were suspended in midair a few inches above the ground. Not a drop of coffee or piece of lasagna touched the ground. The two items collected themselves and floated down to the table next to the stretcher, where they set themselves down with barely a _clink._  

"I assume you brought those for Thor." Loki said, turning back. "If you would be so kind, please show me where the kitchen is. I might be in better condition, but I still need to eat."

"I can bring you food," Peter offered.

"You've been kind enough already." There was finality in his voice.

"Alright," the younger boy said, shrugging. "I'll take you there. No one's going to be there since it's--" he checked his watch-- "three-forty-six."

After a brisk nod, Peter led Loki around the corner and down the hallway again, watching the patterns on the floor. Loki followed silently, footsteps not making so much as a sound.

"So... tell me about this signal from Valkyrie.

"Yesterday, the Avengers received a signal on their satellite and it had a message in it that said something along the lines of, 'if these people are with Thor, prove it and we'll send you the coordinates.'"

Peter didn't get to say any more, however, because they reached the end of the hallway and they turned left into the kitchen.

But there was already someone there, and his expression was not happy.

Tony Stark.


	11. in which a confrontation is had

"You fucked up," Tony said, placing his drink on the table. He strolled casually to where the other two were standing, seemingly careless.

But Loki wasn't ignorant in the slightest, not in the way the people near him were. He could see the tension in his movements, the care with which Tony put down his glass, the way his hands hovered by his sides, the minuscule tremor in his voice. Hundreds of years of waiting and watching.

The lights were slowly brightening and more of Tony's face was visible, the bags under his eyes and the creases in his forehead. Hardly awake-- probably only just woken up by that machine of his. Behind him, Loki noticed, too, that the glass he had just put down was empty. Could be coffee, but mortals never drank coffee in glasses. Alcohol? Possibly, but the cup was too large for it to be--

"Mr. Stark, I can explain." Peter began.

Loki honestly felt bad for him. He was always trying  _so hard_ to be diplomatic. Loki found it mind-boggling how the child could be so... good. It simply couldn't be possible. 

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no," Tony said harshly, turning his back to Loki to face the kid, who shrank back nervously. "I specifically told you. I told you to stay away from him and I meant it. And what do I see you doing? Letting him out? Next thing you know, there's going to be _Thousands_ _Dead in Attack on New York_ on the headlines again and it will be your fault."

Peter looked distraught at that, shrinking back. Had he seriously  _never_ killed anyone? That was just impossible.

Loki huffed, twirling a strand of hair around his fingers. It was only fair to help him. "You can sort this out later. Now, if you'll let me know about the Asgardians and their predicament, I'll be happy to assist you."

"You think you're off the fucking hook?" the shorter man said, looking up.

"Yes." 

_"You can throw them off if you tell them something they aren't expecting. It's a powerful bargaining tool," Frigga had told him once._

"Well-- you aren't." Tony sputtered. The confusion on his face was clear as day.

"What are you going to do with me then?"

_"Make it seem like you are completely unbothered."_

"I don't fucking know. I can't put those suppressors back on as much as I want to."

"You really have _so much_ regard and concern for the lives of others."

_"You can make them angry, but not too angry. Just angry enough so that they'll go to greater lengths to get this over with."_

"Guys, please just chill," Peter interrupted. "Just... give him what he wants."

"Are you talking to me?" both of the older men said.

"Oh my-- no. Just stop arguing. Talk it out like grown men, not preschoolers." Peter sighed, burying his face in his hands.

"Alright." Loki said diplomatically. "You have the option to put me back in that cell, but you can't do that because I'd fight you before you got a chance to take me there."

_"Be diplomatic and clear, but only about the things you want them to know about. Reduce the number of options it seems like they have."_

"Is that a threat?" Tony demanded.

"It is if you want it to be."

The room was silent for a while. Loki smiled inwardly when Tony snapped his head up as he strolled out of the room.

"I'm going to get cleaned up. Thanks very much for your hospitality."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not Loki x Tony! I repeat, this is NOT LOKI X TONY!  
> I headcanon Frigga as the one who taught Loki about bargaining techniques and mischief.  
> Thanks a lot for the comments, they're what keep me motivated to keep on writing!


	12. will they miss you

Bucky was just really tired. It was 6:30 in the morning, and the sun was shining.

He was heading down the dimly lit halls, unable to sleep, when the last person he expected to see strolled past.

Hell, could it even be called a stroll? Loki fucking  _sauntered_ past, looking unperturbed. A bit hungrier than usual, maybe, but otherwise he looked very much like a person who hadn't almost died. He wore a dark green shirt (seriously, did he only wear green and black?) with jeans.

"Uh, hello?" Bucky asked incredulously, turning around to watch the other man wait. "Aren't you supposed to be, like--"

"Dead? I know." the god interrupted with a humorless laugh, not even breaking stride. "Unlucky for you, I suppose."

And then. He continued. Walking.

-

The next time Bucky saw him was four hours later in the kitchen, where the guy was eating a bowl of cereal. Well, damn.

"So. You're up and about, then."

"Good observation." Loki responded, not moving his gaze from the window.  _Why the fuck are you only answering the bare minimum, did_ no one  _ever teach you some goddamn manners, I'm trying to help you--_

"Are you going to do anything about the Asgardians?" Bucky tried.

"If Stark would let me, I would. But I don't know where they are, how to reach them, anything."

"Huh. He'll let you at some point. Is Thor..."  _Fuck, how do I finish this sentence?_

"Yes, Thor is working on it." 

And Loki sat there, sulking, for what seemed like an hour (but was only 14 minutes), until Steve  _finally_ chose to walk in. He immediately tensed at the sight of the god, but clearly forced himself to relax. He then, like an idiot, walked over to the other side of the island and asked, "Anything going on?"

With a resigned sigh, Loki got up, shaking his head, putting his now-empty bowl in the sink and walking out. He mumbled something under his breath that went along the Iine of, "I've had enough of this bullshit."

"Nothing, really," Bucky said quietly.

* * *

Peter really wasn't planning to eavesdrop, really, but he felt like he had no choice when Thor walked past Peter's open door, clearly making as little sound as humanly possible. That couldn't be right. Thor always walked with confidence, with a gait that attracted attention, loud and regal. The Thor that was walking by now had silent footsteps and hung to the sides of the hallway, with the obvious stance of someone who didn't want to attract stares. He moved fluidly, with more ease and grace. When Peter watched more, he could even compare it to a dancer.

And before he knew it, Peter was on his feet, book forgotten, sneaking past the door. Thor just kept on walking, not turning around or doing anything else interesting. After a few moments Peter decided it was dumb and just confronted him outright.

"Uh... Thor?"

He turned around, eyes wary, but then relaxed. "Hello, Peter," he said.

"Do you... need any help?" the younger boy asked, tilting his head.

"No, but thank you."

"Alright--" Peter began, but Thor was already walking away.  _What the hell? Is he in a hurry?_

Something was most definitely going on, but Mr. Stark could probably wait to hear it. He had been in his lab for the past three days, and he probably didn't want to be bothered. So it was _also_ probably a good idea for Peter to go after Thor. Just to figure it out.

Thor rounded the corner, stepping into the transmissions room to listen to the same thing he'd been listening to for the past three days. Peter didn't have to go inside to hear what it said.

 _"I am Brunhillde. This is intended to reach Thor Odinson or his brother, Loki, or anyone affiliated with them who can help us. The remaining Asgardians are stranded on a planet called Calleera, which is what the sparse inhabitants seem to keep calling it. We will likely run out of food and supplies in a month. It's unknown where exactly we are, but I'm sure that there should be a database somewhere with this_   _hellscape in it. Hope to see you soon."_

Peter was about to walk away, to head back to his room and continue studying, but he didn't. Because the person who walked back out of that room wasn't Thor.

Loki was a shapeshifter. Who probably wouldn't appreciate Peter confronting him. _I mean, he just wants his people back. No one really_ has  _to know._

Peter didn't tell Tony. He ducked out of sight and kept walking.

Two days later, Loki disappeared.


	13. what do you mean

Loki was gone. That transmission was received one week ago. One week. Seven days. 168 hours. His people were starving and Thor was a sitting duck.

Couldn't anyone in the compound have reminded him? They were ~~~~~~friends~~ associates. Why the  _fuck?_

Disguised as a commoner in the streets, wearing a dark brown jacket, Loki would fool anyone. His hair was the color of tarnished copper, and eyes dark brown. Nothing gave him away but the tips of his fingers, which hardly shimmered from the lack of magic use in the past few months. He really did miss it, the thrill of being unseen in plain sight. What was the address again? 177A Bleecker Street? There, take a right turn here.

As expected, the huge building with the odd symbol emblazoned on the front loomed overhead, and Loki didn't even bother knocking the door. He stepped right in, telekinetically fiddling with the lock for a few seconds until the door opened. Strange was standing in the entrance, as expected. He started to say something that went along the lines of, "you don't seem too keen on knocking," but Loki quickly interrupted, waving his hand dismissively.

"Right. Well, I don't suppose you can help me find a planet called Calleera?"

"Hold on. How the fuck did you get in here, and why the fuck are you suddenly so interested in saving your people you gave no shits about two months ago?--"

"You aren't the only sorcerer around here, to answer your first question. I'm _so interested in rescuing them_ because they are my people and I owe them. Answer me, can you take me there or not?"

"I can, but only if you take your brother. And can you... change your face or something?" that second-rate magician asked irritably, gesturing towards Loki's transformed features. Loki relented, letting the magic drop away until his face looked normal once again. He nodded, letting Strange continue speaking.

"I'll get Thor in here in two hours. Be patient, I'm not letting you run around the universe alone."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. I've done it before, what did it matter to you?" he hissed. Strange didn't do anything in response.

They stood there for another five minutes as Strange shuffled around with his cloak fluttering nearby while he fiddled with trinkets and such. Loki zoned out. What was he going to say once he returned to his people? Something grandiose? Something welcoming? He imagined the words he might say, feeling how they sounded.  _I am here to save you? No, too cliché. I need something more eloquent. Of course, assuming there are actually people left for me to save._

"How'd you get out of the compound?" Strange interrupted, not taking his eyes off the useless items he was holding. Honestly, a  _decent_ sorcerer didn't need tools to use his talents.  _(The attack on New York didn't count, since that was all Thanos.)_

"The dimwits at that compound let me slip by. It wasn't even difficult."

"Hmm." he replied airily.

A few more minutes passed until Loki decided to say something.

"How'd you get me back from the dead?"

Strange actually turned around at that, uncomfortably looking down. "It's not for you to know."

"No, please continue. I'm intrigued. What am I going to do with the information, repeat it at you for the next century? Surely it isn't so pressing of a matter that you can't inform me of it."

"We traveled back to the planet you died on and Thor found your body."

"I want more details," Loki pressed. The golden lights even seemed to shift at that, as if even they didn't want to be present.

 

Strange turned back around. His Cloak floated nervously, poking at its owner. It was really interesting, actually. Was the Cloak sentient? It was an article of clothing. If it was, then what made it? What kind of magic was it made with? Questions for later, he supposed. It was--  _oh._

_Oh._

_But I want to hear it from him._

"You used the time stone on my body, correct? Turned me back in time until before Thanos killed me. Why no one else?"

Strange sighed. "Their bodies were burned. Yours, being Jotun and able to resist the heat, wasn't _completely_ a pile of ashes, so it was... salvageable."

Loki didn't want him to continue.

"Everyone who survived might be dead by now. Tony and I made a deal not to come to each other unless we truly needed it. Thor forgot I could help out--"

"So you left them to  _die?_ You arrogant, piece of shit, prick! When you have the kind of powers you do and something happens and you can prevent it, it becomes your _f_ _ault!"_

"You're in no place to lecture me about this. Take your brother and leave."

With a  _pop,_ Thor appeared in the room in a flurry of orange sparks, and a portal appeared, leading into a dark place that, frankly, looked terrifying.

"Come on, Thor." Loki snarled, grabbing him by the arm and storming out into the planet.

_And fuck you, idiot low-class magician._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to tell you guys thanks so much for reading. Your comments mean so much to me and they keep me motivated. Please tell me what you think of this in the comments: suggestions, corrections, anything would be appreciated. I’m hoping to get out the next chapter sooner.


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